


Gig

by LostCauses (Anteros)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clubbing, M/M, eruri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/LostCauses
Summary: He feels it first; a hard, lithe body pressing against him in passing.  Erwin glances away from the stage and sees a flash of black and silver slipping through the crowd.  He’s not sure what draws his attention to this one body out of the hundreds that have bumped and jostled against him since the gig started.Erwin bumps into an intoxicating stranger at a gig.  Quick and dirty one shot.





	Gig

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @zedsdead1001 for the absolutely [stunning art](https://zedsdead1001.tumblr.com/post/167238466017/as-the-lights-swirl-and-the-crowd-shifts-and) she created for this fic. Love you Zed!

He feels it first; a hard, lithe body pressing against him in passing. Erwin glances away from the stage and sees a flash of black and silver slipping through the crowd. He’s not sure what draws his attention to this one body out of the hundreds that have bumped and jostled against him since the gig started. The venue is rammed, crowded with a heaving mass of people. There’s barely room to breathe, far less to move, and the heat is intense. Sweat is running down Erwin’s back and dripping from the ceiling, but somehow, as that one body slides past, he catches the faint scent of soap and mint. He stares after him, long after the figure has been swallowed up by the crowd. 

The volume is deafening, pounding electronic base vibrating up through the floor until Erwin can feel it pulsing in his chest. The base drops and the energy changes, ratcheting up a notch. The crowd responds, surging forward; Erwin goes with it and for a moment finds his way blocked. He stumbles as the crowd pushes him forward against the obstacle in his path, an obstacle that’s warm and hard, and smells like soap and mint. Erwin feels a surge of electricity, a sudden connection that jolts him out of the music and into a different headspace entirely. Then crowd surges again, and he’s gone. 

Erwin weaves through the throng, following the beguiling stranger through the press of humanity, bodies melting away leaving no impression. As the lights swirl and the crowd shifts and parts, he catches a glimpse here and there of sleek dark hair tied back above an undercut, a worn biker jacket, para boots incongruously paired with silver leggings. A blinding spot cuts through the crowd and catches him for a moment, illuminated in shimmering light. The jut of his slender hips is defiant, aggressive almost, a challenge and an invitation. Erwin is transfixed, music washing over him, then the lights shift and the vision slips back into the darkness. 

Erwin has almost reached the front of the stage when he sees him again, right where the crowd is thickest. It’s a heaving writhing mess down there, everyone’s lost in the music, arms waving in chemical abandon, oblivious to everything but the beat and the lights. But somehow, he’s made his own space in the reeling crowd; there’s a lucidity to the way he moves that’s a million miles from the intoxicated crowd that surrounds him. Erwin has never seen anyone move like that before and he can’t tear his eyes away from the way those silver hips move and sway. He circles closer, drawn towards the dancing stranger by some irresistible magnetic force. Closer and closer until he’s right behind him. A solid shoulder bumps hard against his arm, he looks down and meets slate grey eyes that glint in the pulsing strobe. He’s frowning up at Erwin, lips curling into a snarl, then his eyes widen and his expression shifts, one thin brow raising with interest, snarl melting into something altogether more inviting. He steps backwards right into Erwin’s space, lets the crowd press them together and then he _moves_. The breath punches right out of Erwin’s chest as that supple body grinds against him. He slides his hands around the man’s waist, skin hot and slick with sweat beneath his tee, and it’s all Erwin can do to hold on. He’s dizzy with euphoria, drunk with desire for this intoxicating stranger. The man turns around in the circle of Erwin’s grip, still moving, constantly moving to the beat, and reaches up twining strong arms around his neck. Erwin flexes his fingers, tightening his grip, the man hisses and throws his head back, dark lashes fluttering closed. Time slides away and Erwin is oblivious to everything but the music and the beat and the hard heat of the body twisting against him. 

And then it’s over in a blinding crescendo of light and sound and the deafening cheers and whistles of the crowd. And still Erwin clings on as the small man leans back against him, chest heaving, dripping with sweat. Then the lights come up and the crowd is moving on mass, trudging towards the exits feet crunching through discarded tumblers. 

The man twists out of Erwin’s arms, takes his hand, and pulls him through the crowd towards the doors, looking back over his shoulder with a low-lidded smile that brings Erwin’s heart into his throat. But as the crowd surges and jostles towards the exit, small fingers slip from Erwin’s grasp and he’s lost him. He scans the crowd desperately, sees nothing, waits by the exit until the last stragglers leave, but he’s gone. By the time he gives up and admits defeat, Erwin is shivering in his sweat damp clothes and a chill has seeped into his bones that has nothing to do with the freezing night air. 

It’s going to be a long, cold ride home so Erwin stops at a bar not far from the station. The place is mobbed with raucous weekend drinkers, and Erwin has to shoulder his way to the bar which is three deep with customers. As he waits to be served, he tries not to think about the way that small supple body felt in his hands, tries not to wonder what it would feel like the run his fingers through silk dark hair. 

“What you having sir?”

The barman interrupts Erwin’s thoughts. 

“Whisky, please.” Erwin replies. 

“Oi, do you fucking mind?” 

A voice snarls directly in front of him. He hadn’t noticed the small man standing directly in front of him at the bar. The small man who is now looking up at him, grey eyes blown wide in surprise. 

“Oh,” Erwin stammers, “it’s it’s you…” Suddenly his head is swimming. 

“Levi,” the man replies and there’s that small sly smile again. Suddenly the chill has left Erwin and he’s flushed with heat. 

“Sorry?” 

“Levi,” the man repeats, “it’s my name.”

“Oh…oh!” Erwin finally cottons on. “I’m Erwin.” 

“So Erwin, are you going to buy me a drink?” Levi steps back into Erwin’s space as he speaks, pressing against him as though he was born to fit there. Erwin slides his hands around Levi’s waist and tightens his grip. 

“Yes, Levi," he smiles, "I think I can do that.” 

This time he’s not letting go.


End file.
